Bleeding Love
by deConstruction
Summary: When Kahlan is confronted with one of her worst fears, will she fall back on an age of tradition or try and find a new path of forgiveness? R&R!
1. Prologue

_**A/N**: Here is my first attempt at a Legend of the Seeker story, set just after the events of 'Perdition'. I do not own the rights to the stories, characters or anything else related to them or the television series. This is written for enjoyment and not profit. Please read and review._

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Rain poured down from the skies in great sheets, yet the figure remained still. Droplets of water splattered and soaked into the dark green cloak that had hooded his face from the elements, keeping from the fury of the skies. His twilight blue eyes remained fixed and unmoving. In the distance, through the clearing of the trees he could see smoke. Smoke meant a fire had been lit, and in turn meant that the party had set up camp for the night.

A party of two men and two women. A Seeker, a Wizard of the First Order, a Mord'Sith and the Mother Confessor. Four beings of unimaginable power, four mortals on a quest to save the world from falling into the depths of the Underworld and the ultimate hands of the Keeper. Their journey was a brave one, and most of the common peoples expected them to die. He had a little more faith. After all, the Seeker and his band of followers had defeated the almighty Darken Rahl. He trusted they could do anything.

The cloaked figure considered himself to be many things, but a fool was not among them. He'd seen the cracks starting to appear throughout the lands and the sickly green crevices that led to the depths of the Underworld. The veil between worlds was starting to fail, and only the Seeker could put things to rights.

He'd followed the Seeker for weeks, always remaining just a few steps behind. He'd tracked them since they left the People's Palace, all across D'Hara and even to the very edges of the Old World. He hadn't crossed the boundaries alongside the others; in fact he'd waited for them to re-emerge. After almost losing hope that he'd never see the Seeker and his party again and convincing himself to enter into the Old World, Richard Rahl and the others had finally re-emerged from the other side. He'd been pleased of this, but still kept his distance.

After all, his mission was a delicate one, and the timing had to be precise. If he came to them too soon or in the wrong way, he wouldn't have a chance to explain himself before the Wizard reduced him to cinders with his fire, or the cursed Mord'Sith reduced him to a quivering mess courtesy of her Agiel. And those were the best case scenarios. He'd heard of stories of what a Seeker could do with the Sword of Truth, and he certainly didn't want to be on the receiving end of a swing from that. He would have to broach the matter carefully, and maybe he'd keep his head intact.

Whilst he had much to fear from the other three, in actual fact, the cloaked figure was not interested in them. It was the Mother Confessor that he was trying to get in touch with. There was much they had to talk about, much that he still needed to understand and get her guidance on. If he could just make her see, just for a moment, that he was no danger to her or anyone else perhaps he would finally get the answers to the questions that had plagued him all his life. He just hoped the compassion and capacity to see the good in others was a potent as the stories of Kahlan Amnell told. He smiled at the thought of her welcoming him with open arms, but knew that was about as unlikely as it could get. The best case scenario was her not trying to impale him with her fighting daggers.

Sighing heavily, he watched as the cloud of breath escaped the hood and fled into the raining air. He would have to set up camp himself for now, find a dark and dry corner where he could take a few hours rest before he made the final trip to meet the Mother Confessor.

The heel of his leather boot creaked a little as he turned in a brief arc to face the way he had come. Manoeuvring himself through the trees, he made sure he kept himself ducked down and low in case the Seeker or his companions had strayed out this far. It wouldn't do for him to be surprised at this late stage.

Shuffling forward, he tightened his cloak around himself and headed back into the small clearing he had walked through earlier. As he appeared through the trees however, he realised his immediate mistake. The whistle of an arrow pierced the hiss of heavy rain from the skies. In the dim lightning, his eyes didn't quite make out the arrow until it was upon him. Thankfully, the owner's aim wasn't as true as it should've been, otherwise the tip would have pierced his shoulder. Instead the bolt stuck into the trunk of a tree on his immediate right, quivering slightly from the stalled impact.

He peered through the sheets of rain as best he could. On the other side of the clearing, he could just about see them now. Rorick's men. There were at least three of them he could see, although there could be more hidden in the trees. Their thick bulky forms were a stark contrast to the slim trees all around them, their beards and fur lined cloaks matted from the falling moisture. They crashed out through the undergrowth, stepping fully into the clearing and focusing their attention on him.

As his training dictated, he automatically sized up the opponents. They were a great deal taller than him, and much more widely set than his lithe frame. Their faces were a mottled mask of scars and ruined flesh, a living testament to all the battles they had fought. Evil intended glowed in their eyes as they advanced forward, brandishing short swords and heavy axes meant for him. Clearly Rorick's original plan of getting him back at any cost had been ejected in favour of a new strategy. Perhaps they wanted him, alive or dead. Well it would be the latter if he had anything to say about it.

"There ya are lad," the nearest drawled, losing a hand in the bush of his beard. "You gave us quite a chase, didn't you? Well the game's up now. It's time to come back to Rorick and get on with your job."

He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. "I told Rorick that I was done doing his dirty work for him." The retort was calm and measured, his twilight eyes never once losing sight of the fact that the three were trying to ever so subtly surround him. "I also told him what I would do to any more of his lackeys that came after me."

"Come on now Finn, be reasonable." The leader inched closer, his hand alternately tightening and relaxing on the hilt of his sword. "Rorick will treat you real nice if you just come back and do the job he paid you for. Surely that's gotta be better than running all the time?"

Finn shook his head. "I'd sooner die than go back to work for that louse." Lifting his hands, Finn carefully removed his head, pulling back to expose the messy length of his blonde hair. "I'll give you once chance to turn around and go back to Rorick. I suggest you take it."

"You know what the boss will do to us if we come back empty handed Finn," the barrel shaped man on his right spoke with a tone of something like fear. "We have to take you back."

"Is what Rorick will do any worse than what you know I'll do to you if you try and take me against my will?" The latest man to speak shrank back as Finn focused his gaze solely on him. These men weren't stupid. They knew why Rorick had procured Finn's services and exactly what he could do. It came down to who they were more afraid of, and Finn was happy to guess that it was more likely to be him. After all, they could run from Rorick. If they got tangled up with Finn, they all knew they'd never be free again.

"Oh enough of this!" The third man bellowed, holding his axe high. "You're coming back to the boss either as you are or missing your legs." He licked his lips, exposing briefly a set of several missing teeth. "Figure you can still do your job if you ain't got those."

The axe wielder roared with fury and charged toward Finn, his axe held high to bring it down on a diagonal death stroke. Unfortunately, he never got the chance. Finn dodged to the left with lightning fast reflexes. The man didn't have the chance to compensate for the sudden shift in position and swung the axe anyway, leaving his right side completely exposed.

Finn took full advantage of it, launching into a front straight kick. His leg flashed forward and the heel and sole of his boot connected with the lackey's arm. Finn felt the familiar snap of bone beneath the pressure of the kick and the following howl of pain. The axe fell to the sodden floor as he back away, holding his broken arm close to him and eyeing Finn warily.

Despite the display, the other two were not deterred. They both rushed Finn, one wielding a sword and the other stabbing forward a glaive. Finn twisted his body on the spot, avoiding the swing of the sword and the stag of the glaive in one swift turn. Both men had extended themselves forward and immediately they realised their mistake. Their arms were reaching forward, putting their entire bodies at risk for Finn who had managed to twist in between them. There was a flicker of sorrow in Finn's eyes, but it didn't last long. Steel determination focused his twilight orbs and he stepped into action.

Standing in between the two men, Finn thrust both arms forward. His hands caught his attackers around the throat and instantly he weakened his control over his power. It was only brief, but he felt his power flood out of him immediately. Finn's twilight eyes became inky black as his pupils coloured the irises. The lackey's eyes were completely taken over by the obsidian darkness, their expressions of terror almost immediately slacking into expressions of serene calm. It sounded like a distant roll of thunder as his power consumed the attackers, and the air pressure all around them changed and expanded outwards. Loosening his grip, Finn slumped to his knees, fighting to regain his breath. Using his power to dominate two people at once was taxing, and it would take him a few moments to gather himself.

"Command me, Confessor." The leader of the three said, dropping to his knees in front of Finn.

"Command me, Confessor." The second followed suite, both men kneeling before Finn, their faces anxious to learn their Confessor's command.

"How many men did you travel with?" Finn asked, resting his hands on his thighs to look up at the two he had confessed. The rain continued to poor down over them, but he made no effort to pull his hood up. He had to know how many other mercenaries Rorick had sent before he could relax.

The leader answered first. "We came with four other men Confessor. We were sent ahead to be certain of your location and report back. If we don't make contact with the others soon, then they will - ..."

He didn't finish his sentence as the whistle of arrows punctured the air. Several loud thunks finished the sounds off, and Finn could tell from the expression on his face that leader had been struck. There was no time to aid him. As far as Finn was concerned, he'd been confessed. There was no life for him now. Instead he turned to the second lackey.

"Give me enough time to escape." He ordered before getting back to his feet. The power of the Confessor once more was raging within him. Clearing his mind of negative thoughts, Finn focused on the task at hand and separated the emotions from it. He had to escape, and this man would help him do it.

Turning on his heel, Finn fled toward the tree line parallel to where he'd been observing the Mother Confessor and her companions before. He couldn't lead these vagabonds directly to them. Finn grabbed his hood as he ran, swiftly pulling it back and over his head. If he could just make it past the first few trunks, he knew he could escape. He'd just about reached the first trunk when the whistle of arrows caught up with him. On instinct, Finn twisted on his feet, contorting his body to an odd angle to hopefully avoid the oncoming bolts. What he hadn't counted on was the fact that the line of trees hid a steep bank.

Constant rainfall had left the ground and all the undergrowth slick underfoot. With his body twisted with furious momentum, Finn couldn't stop himself as his feet slid out from under him. His arms wheeled wildly but he failed to grasp any one of the trunks around him. He toppled to the ground, spinning end over end and over his sides as he plummeted to the bottom of the bank.

Something sturdy at the bottom of the bank awaited him. As he rolled to a final halt, the side of his head collided with the object and the impact sent out a bonfire of pain. Lights exploded before Finn's eyes, and the darkness claimed him before he knew what was happening.

Finn was left dead to the world, and easy prey for those that were looking for him.


	2. First Meetings

_**A/N:** Update. Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, and everyone who has added this to alert/favourite. I disclaim! Please read and review!_

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Sunlight was not welcomed this morning. Normally Kahlan Amnell was awake and active just before dawn's light had reached their camp, but this morning she had slept soundly. She ascended from the warm waters of sleep slowly, the light illuminating the lids of her eyes and bringing her back to reality. Her brow furrowed, and she whimpered softly. _Not now. It can't be morning yet._ It seemed only moments ago that she'd fallen into a deep slumber, having spent most of the night watching Richard as he slept.

With a petulant huff, she rolled over onto her left, tucking her head into the crook of her elbow and pretended that she wasn't awake at all. If she breathed deeply enough, the Mother Confessor was sure she could lull herself back to sleep. Only the soft chuckle at her back prevented that.

Kahlan hadn't meant to do it, but that warm rumble of contained laughter cracked her eyes open a slither. Her shoulders heaved in a defeated sigh. There was no going back to sleep now. The morning was well and truly here, and the light had penetrated her eyes, meaning dreams were lost for another day. Whoever it was that had felt the need to chuckle at her was going to pay with a scowling look, and maybe even a curt word or two. If it wasn't for them, she might very well be asleep again now.

She rolled over in one fluid motion, resting her weight on the other arm now to come face to face with Richard. He too was on his side, his head propped up by the palm of his bent left arm. The boyishly handsome features of his face were incandescent with..._what?_ Kahlan couldn't place the emotion immediately. Normally she could read Richard with the ease she could a book, yet this morning she wasn't quite sure what he was feeling.

_Joy, _her mind answered for her and she knew it to be true. His face was full of joy, the likes of which Kahlan couldn't recall seeing before. Only half aware of the movement of her own lips, Kahlan found herself smiling at Richard smiling, and it warmed her from the inside out. Richard Rahl, the man who comprised her entire world was joyous, so all was right with world. Instinctively she half shuffled closer to him, aching to feel his infectious warmth even more than his smile allowed.

"Good morning." He said at last. His free arm which had rested the length of his body carefully inched up so that the palm was facing her, fingers slightly parted. It hung in the middle distance between them for just a moment, both of them looking at the offering.

"Good morning Richard."

Kahlan responded in kind, lifting the arm that wasn't holding her up to touch his. His skin was wonderfully rough against hers; the sign of a true woodsman. For a moment, Kahlan was content to measure her hand against his, her mind listing all the differences between their limbs.

Richard's hand was larger than hers, wider and longer so that it came close to dwarfing hers. His hand was masculine and hard to the touch, her own was slender and soft. Kahlan glanced up so see Richard studying their hands in the same way she was. The Seeker caught her eye, and slowly lowered his fingers so that their hands were interlocked. It was rare for them to be so intimate with one another. Usually they only gave in to their hearts when the other had come close to death. Whether it was the Confessor in her not, Kahlan knew that Richard had been shaken up by his experience in the desert of Perdition. His explanation of what he had seen had been clipped and lacking true description of his worst fears. She knew she was involved, if only because of the way he greeted her when he'd escaped.

For her part, Kahlan felt the same way. She had spent most of the night watching him sleep, afraid to close her eyes in case he was no longer there when she awoke. A world without Richard didn't even register as a fear because she simply couldn't imagine a world where he didn't exist. Watching him so diligently had meant sitting through the rain, but Kahlan didn't mind. When the skies had eventually cleared, she finally gave in to sleep. Thankfully Richard was still there when she awoke, and right now he needed tactile comfort as much as she did.

Richard's smile was back, and his gentle laugh broke free of his expression with the huff of a breath. If she could have her way, Kahlan would stay like this forever. Alone and in contact with Richard was enough of her life for her. Unfortunately duty dictated otherwise. Despite her longing, Kahlan knew it was dangerous to wallow to long at the well of what could have been had their lives been different.

"Where are Zedd and Cara?" Kahlan finally asked, loath to break the comfortable silence between them but doing it all the same. Her neck craned slightly as she scanned around the camp. Their bed rolls had been stashed away, although their packs were still resting against a log that made part of a row that half encircled their camp.

"Zedd went to the river to get water," Richard explained, his disappointed sigh breaking his flow of words. "And Cara has gone to collect firewood. The rains soaked what we had left, so we'll need more before we set off." As an almost after thought Richard added, "They left not long after first light, so they'll probably be back soon."

From the tone of his voice, Kahlan could tell Richard wanted her in this moment as much as she did him. It wasn't often they were alone together, and when they were they made the most of it. It was difficult being with the person you loved at all times, yet seldom having the chance to be close to them in any sense.

"You should have woken me," Kahlan said, frowning as she realised she had apparently been failing to perform her fair share of the necessary chores they divided up whilst they travelled. "It was my turn to get water."

Richard smiled again. "You looked so peaceful. I didn't want to wake you, and the other two agreed."

"Agreed?" Kahlan asked innocently. "Or did as they were told?"

In that moment, Kahlan wanted nothing more than to close the distance between herself and Richard and kiss him deeply. The longing she felt seemed magnified in this moment, and it took all the will she had to keep her Confessor power in check to not throw caution to the wind and have at him with abandon. Luckily, the sound of someone returning put a pause to that. Both Richard and Kahlan turned in the direction of the sound of crunching twigs and leaves being brushed aside.

Zeddicus Z'ul Zorander strode through the trees, extending to his full height as he cleared the last few branches. Both of his hands held onto the handle of a pail that sloshed with the water inside it. Despite the deep magical strength Kahlan knew he had, the sight of Zedd's twig fingers clutching the pail to him made her guilt surge. He should not have had to pick up the slack for her not being able to rouse herself as she should.

The Wizard of the First Order glanced between Richard and Kahlan, a knowing smile curving his lips. "Well good morning Mother Confessor," his deep voice always reminded Kahlan of the growl of a cantankerous old dog, though it was tempered with genuine affection. "You look well rested. Would you care for some breakfast?"

Reluctantly, Kahlan let go of Richard's hand and stood up, kicking her bed roll aside. She straightened the length of her forest green robes, brushing away at the few strands of stray grass that had snuck into the creases. Stepping around Richard Kahlan moved to take the pail from Zedd.

"Let me do that Zedd. I'm sorry I overslept." She glanced at him from beneath her mane of hair, feeling colour stain her cheeks. "You should have woken me to get the water. It isn't fair you had to do it in my place."

Zedd smiled with his usual fatherly expression. He made no effort to prevent Kahlan from taking the water, instead placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and guided her to where the fire still smoked from the previous attempts at lighting the water saturated wood.

"Nonsense, child. You clearly needed rest, so it was rest you had. Besides, if anyone should have fetched the water in your place, it should have been Richard over there." The Seeker had moved from lying on the ground and had just taken a seat on a rock when he glanced up at Zedd's suggestion. His eyes narrowed playfully. "After all, it is his fault you were kept up all night. A Mother Confessor watching over a Seeker of Truth as he slept. Whatever next? Oh that's right, a Seeker of Truth watching over a Mother Confessor as she slept. What would your ancestors say!"

Kahlan and Richard exchanged warm glances at their mirrored concern for one another, and Zedd tutted his apparent disapproval. The Wizard made a show of rolling his eyes, but the mischievous grin negated the movement.

Squeezing Kahlan's shoulder gently, he moved away to take a seat on a log that bordered the edge of the camp they had made. With a great a deal of huffing and groaning, Zedd finally managed to lower himself onto the wood, wincing as his knees snapped and cracked in protest. Digging into the pouch tied at his waist, he removed a handful of purple berries which he happily began to pop into his mouth with one bony handful at a time.

"Well it was very kind of you to do it for me Zedd," Kahlan smiled. "I promise to make you something extra tasty for breakfast as a thank you."

"I hope that goes for all of us."

Wizard, Confessor and Seeker all turned in unison to see the Mord'Sith Cara emerge from the trees as Zedd did. Her arms clutched a bundle of logs to her chest, which she deposited in a pile next to the fire.

Kahlan smiled brightly at her. "Good morning Cara. Sleep well?"

"Not as well as you, apparently." The Mord'Sith failed to even look up as she addressed the Mother Confessor, too busy kneeling down and arranging logs on the fire.

Kahlan didn't take it to heart, knowing that it was partly Cara's way. But more than that, she had recently lost someone she'd cared about. Leo, the man named Seeker in Richard's absence had died defending Kahlan from the traitorous Sister Nicci. As much as she tried to keep her feelings locked tightly behind the mask of Mord'Sith, Kahlan knew it had affected the woman deeply.

"I look forward to seeing what you prepare," Cara announced, rising to her full height as she finished organising the firewood. "Zedd devoured the last of the bread after last night's meal."

"Well what do we have left?" Kahlan turned slightly toward Richard, who was searching through the bag where they kept the communal food provisions.

"Nothing," he said finally, turning the bag upside down and giving it a brief but firm shake to illustrate its total emptiness. "We'll need to start keeping a better eye on the food. If we're stuck travelling with no town near to us, it'll be difficult to stock up again.

Cara folded her arms, the leather of her attire squeaking softly at the friction. "Richard, you and I will have to go hunting for the morning meal."

The Seeker nodded, not bothering to correct Cara for the instruction. "Zedd, would you head into that village through the trees and see if you can pick us up some more bread?" Richard grinned at his grandfather's eyebrows arched wildly on his forehead. "You did finish the last of it after all."

"I'll go." Stepping forward, Kahlan placed the pail down and started to walk across the camp. "Zedd got the water this morning, so I'll head to the village and pick up some bread. There might be other food provisions we can use."

Richard's forehead creased with concern. "Alone? I'm not sure if that's a good idea. Zedd can go with you."

The Confessor shook her head. "It's just on the other side of those trees Richard. I'll be there and back by the time Zedd has got the water boiling. Right Zedd?"

From across the camp, the Wizard nodded his assent, cheeks bulging with berries.

"It's settled then." Cara stooped down next to her belongings, selecting a bow and arrow for the journey. "This way Richard. I passed rabbit tracks on the way back. Perhaps we can track those."

Richard caught Kahlan by the elbow, gently guiding her around to face him. His hands found their way up the lengths of her arms to close around the back of her neck. Her teeth bit down onto her bottom lip as she felt his fingers probe and explore the soft fall of hair at the nape of her neck. Sunlight reflected off his eyes, highlighting a rich caramel colour in their depths. He studied her face carefully, as though he were trying to commit every last detail to memory.

"Be safe," Richard said softly. "Keep your daggers close at all times, and confess anyone you think is a threat." She didn't need to be told any of that, those two principles making up the bulk of her training since childhood. "And if you're not back by the time we are, I'm coming after you Kahlan Amnell."

It was a statement, not a request. It wasn't that long ago that Kahlan would have admonished the Seeker for making such foolish decisions when his life was vastly more important than her own. But she made no effort to dissuade him. He would come after her regardless of what she told him to do, and since learning that victory against the Keeper was possible provided her heart continued to beat, the knowledge that Richard would always be there was a great source of comfort.

Despite the audience, Kahlan rested her forehead against Richard's. "Come back safe Richard." A ghost of a smile reached her lips. "If you're not back by the time I am, I'll be coming to look for you."

Richard chuckled softly. Tilting his head up, he pressed a kiss into her forehead before breaking the contact all together. Feeling the acute loss of his body against hers, Kahlan folded her arms around herself, and watched her love and his bodyguard disappear into the trees.

"Would you like some company Kahlan?"

Zedd's voice broke her from the spell Richard's exit had placed her under. Glancing over her shoulder, she sent the Wizard a bright smile and headed over to where her belongings lay. Scooping a few things into a pouch, she fixed it to her waist and slid her daggers into the slender scabbards at her ankles. She wasn't expecting trouble, but only a fool travelled without the necessary precautions to protect themselves. Regardless of whether her touch was deadlier than a pair of daggers, Kahlan felt safer with their solid weight strapped to her lower legs.

"I'll be back soon," she said finally. Reaching to her shoulders, Kahlan pulled the vast hood up and placed it over her head. It was a sign to all that she was the Mother Confessor. The title brought its own benefits and burden, the latter of which feeling all too heavy this morning. "I feel like eggs this morning Zedd. If you'd get a fire going whilst I'm gone?"

The Wizard's head nodded with vigour, already pulling himself up from the log. Kahlan chuckled, and waved her fingers briefly before turning on her heel and heading to the line of trees. She had only taken a few paces into the woods before the camp was no longer visible behind her. The Mother Confessor remembered the journey to the clearing and recalled that a traveller's path was nearby.

Several leaves still clung to the moisture of the rainfall during the evening, and they brushed against her rich green robes, leaving several dark streaks across the material. The fresh, wet morning scent was intoxicating, and Kahlan could feel herself smiling as her lungs took in the sweet smells. Often she forgot how beautiful the world could be as you passed through it. Most of the time she and the others were focused on the destination of the travel, rather than experiencing the journey. Bird song and dappled light were long lost friends on this short trip, and she planned to enjoy their company whilst she could.

Turning left through the trees, the trampled path spread out in front of her. It was a dark, dirt brown and softer underfoot than it had been last night due to the rainfall soaking into the soil. Kahlan noticed the fresh wheel tracks without realising she was assessing the road. She smiled as she half remembered the lesson Richard had taught her about reading tracks. From the way the blades of grass were bent, the wheels had gone in the same direction she was going; to the village. She fell into step alongside the wheel markings and headed along the path.

It wasn't long before the path began a gentle inclined downwards. It came closer to the river on its left, and Kahlan heard the rush of water around the same time as she spotted the ramshackle tops of buildings through gaps in the trees. The short walk had led her to the village, and she could just about make out sounds of life ahead. The laughter of children cut through the air clearly, and Kahlan felt glad. Children were always a sign of a healthy, prosperous community particularly when they were laughing. Her knowledge of this area was sketchy at best, but Kahlan knew they were mostly farming families and this little commune was the closest thing they had to a town for quite some distance.

Walking beneath the hanging boughs of trees, the path opened up to the entrance of the village. The handful of buildings dotted around in a rough circle, the centre point being the well that was busily being used by several women of the village. Nearby, the Mother Confessor spotted the children that she heard laughing. They danced and skipped happily, chasing after a ball that had been expertly crafted out of wood. Kahlan smiled at the villagers as one of the women looked up and spotted her.

Her face was careworn, with strands of straw blonde hair poking out from beneath a faded blue head scarf that matched her simple dress. Middle aged, she looked every inch the formidable woman. She nudged the women on either side of her, who also glanced up to see Kahlan's arrival.

The woman in blue ventured forward, drying her hands on the grey apron that was tied at her waist. Her face showed a mix of reverence and fear, and Kahlan guessed that she had been recognised. Confessors were the highest moral authority in all the lands, and as the Mother Confessor, her word was essentially law to these people. She doubted they had ever seen, much less been visited by a confessor not to mention glimpsing the Mother Confessor. Kahlan clasped her hands in front of her as the woman kept a respectful distance.

"You're...you're a confessor?" It was more of a question than a statement. Kahlan smiled to try and ease her concern, straightening her back as though she were trying to match up to the title.

"I am Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor." She heard her title whispered amongst the women at the well who were apparently listening in to the conversation. Even the children stopped playing to inspect the newcomer. The woman in blue, frozen by Kahlan's statement, made a sort of choking sound before immediately dropped to her knees and bowing her head. Behind her, the women did the same and a hush fell over them all.

Frowning, Kahlan knelt down before the woman. This happened all the time, and she had no patience for deference in this way. Placing her hands on her shoulders of the woman, she encouraged her to look up. "Please, there is no need. I've merely come to purchase a few provisions as I continue on my journey with the Seeker of Truth. May I ask your name?"

The woman slowly looked up, almost recoiling under Kahlan's serene gaze and stealing uneasy looks at the hands on her shoulders. She sucked in a breath. "N-Nancy, mistress. My name is Nancy." Her bark brown eyes fluttered rapidly. "My husband is the village elder. I must take you to him."

Kahlan smiled, slowly rising as Nancy did the same. "There is no need to trouble your husband Nancy, I'm sure he is very busy guiding your village. If you'd be kind enough to show me where I can purchase provisions, I would be most grateful."

It wasn't exactly following protocol, but Kahlan wasn't here in an official capacity. She just needed to buy a few things and get back to camp before Richard came charging through the trees after her. The last thing these people needed was a visit from a concerned Seeker of Truth and a Mord'Sith with an aching heart.

"Oh but Mother Confessor, Gregory would never forgive me if you came to our village and he didn't have the chance to meet you. He's always saying to people how highly he regards the work you and the other confessors do." Nancy looked desperate, and Kahlan nodded her assent. Hopefully she could meet the elder, get what she needed and return to the camp before Richard. "Please, please come and meet him. It would be our greatest honour."

The Mother Confessor allowed herself to be led across the village toward a building that looked grander than the rest, despite it needing several repairs. The building stretched up three floors, with a pointed roof constructed from tar and good thick straw. The windows were all of slightly different sizes, their tired shutters thrust open to welcome the morning sun. Kahlan had seen many buildings like this during her travels, and guessed that it served as both a meeting place for the village, as well as a home for Nancy and Gregory.

Kahlan took in the sights of the cosy village. In another life, perhaps she and Richard could have lived this way. Her gaze fell across the building next to where she was being led and her smile faltered. As they neared the building, Kahlan stopped as she spotted a cart outside. It was of simple construction, with a base set high up four large wheels. On top if it however, were thick bars constructed of metal. From where she was stood, Kahlan could see the folded up form of a person, and realised that it wasn't just a cart, but a cell.

"Who is being held there?" Her hand extended into pointing toward the cell. Nancy followed her gaze and automatically flinched.

"His name I don't know mistress, but he was brought to the village last night." Looking on either side of herself, Nancy took a step closer to Kahlan and lowered her voice before speaking again. "Rorick's men brought the lad in during the evening. Poor thing was left out all night in the cold and the rain whilst they slept in the inn."

Righteous anger rose in Kahlan at the treatment of the prisoner. "What is his crime? Can it justify leaving him out like this?"

Nancy shrugged. "The men didn't say mistress. They just told us Rorick was angry with him and he had to be taken back. We were warned to stay away from him 'less we be put in there with him."

Kahlan frowned. She had tried countless criminals over the years and brought many of them to justice. As such, her instincts for truth and fairness were strong. And something about this didn't set right with her. The prisoner should have at least been kept inside, regardless of his crime.

"Who is this Rorick you've mentioned?"

She could instantly tell it was an uncomfortable question from the way Nancy shifted from foot to foot. "He is lord and master of a town near the mouth of the river, about two hours walk from here. All the hamlets and villages near are under his protection and extended rule. We don't hear much from him, but every now and again his men pass through on his official business." Nancy shrugged her shoulders as though that were explanation enough. "He helps us during the harder winter months, and we just let his men get on with things. Best not to interfere in things we don't understand. If they say the lad needs punishing, then he must do."

The Mother Confessor knew Nancy was telling her the truth, or at least part of it. But she _was _holding something back. Perhaps it was out of fear, and perhaps because of something else. Kahlan vowed to get to the bottom of it, but first she had to find out more about the captive. The villagers might not be prepared to go against Rorick but she was bound by no such subordination.

"I'd like to judge that for myself," Kahlan replied, walking across the courtyard toward where the cart was standing. She was aware of the anxious gaze of the women at the well who had been watching her every move. Nearby one of the children had started to whimper. What was there to be afraid of?

As she got closer, Kahlan could make out more of the captive. He was lying on his side, and wearing a large black cloak. No other attire was obvious beneath it, other than the leather boots poking out from beneath the folds. Kahlan slowly circled around the cell, taking in the prisoner from all angles. His face was partly obscured by his cloak, but she could see he was young, perhaps no more than sixteen winters. His hair was the colour of the bright morning sunshine, near white with a golden flicker when the sun hit it. The skin she could see was the colour of freshly made cream and just as smooth.

It was the deep purple blemish that concerned her. The temple she could see was covered in an ugly bruise that reached the corner of his eye and his hairline. The hair closest to the bruise was darker and caked with dried blood. He'd suffered a blow there, either accidental or through violence Kahlan could not tell. The chains that crept from metal rings in the floor of the cart to beneath the folds of his cloak were not missed either. The Mother Confessor failed to see how a boy of his age could present any such danger to the people, and turned back to face Nancy.

"I want him released so that I may question him myself." Nancy's eyes flared open, her mouth forming a perfect round. Kahlan knew she was about to protest, and her voice took on a more authoratative tone. "The judgement of the Mother Confessor is binding. Until I deem it necessary, no harm will come to this boy. He is under my protection."

Behind her, a soft moan filtered out from behind the cloak. Kahlan turned around immediately. The prisoner's foot twitched first, followed by the clang of chains being drawn across the base as he tried to shift around. Kahlan moved to the end where his head was, and watched as the boy blinked himself slowly awake. His eyes were the shade of twilight, and took a long time to focus on anything.

"Hello," Kahlan said softly, holding onto the bars. "Don't try to move too quickly. It looks like you've taken a nasty bump to the head." He stopped moving for a moment, his eyes trying to focus on the source of the voice. "I'm going to get you out of here. Just rest there a moment."

His head lowered back down to the base again, his eyes falling shut. Kahlan watched him for a moment more, before she called to Nancy. "Quickly Nancy, find the one who has the keys to this cage. And fetch some water from the well." Nancy looked reluctant. "It is my wish that this boy be released and taken care of. Then he will be judged for whatever crimes he was arrested. Until then we have a duty of care toward him. Now go and do as I ask."

"Mother Confessor." Nancy dipped her head and rushed over to the inn and disappeared inside in a flurry of woollen blue material.

Kahlan turned back to the boy, who was now watching her from behind the bars. She smiled softly. "Do you remember what happened to you? Can you tell me your name?"

"Finn." He croaked. "I was running and I..." His voice trailed off, as he tried to piece together the broken shards of his memory through the blinding headache trying to drag him back down into the murky depths on unconsciousness. Flashes of Rorick's men, and the nearby woods formed a blurry picture in his memory. "...I slipped. Fell. Who are you?"

His voice had an accusatory tone, but Kahlan understood why. He'd been held captive after falling and injuring himself. Waking up in an unfamiliar place was bound to be unsettling.

"My name is Kahlan Amnell," she responded, pulling her hood down to expose her head. "I am the Mother Confessor. I assure you Finn I won't let anything happen to you until these issues with the man named Rorick have been resolved."

It took Finn a few moments, but what Kahlan said finally made sense in his mind. Rorick. Issues. Mother Confessor. Kahlan. _Kahlan!_

He inhaled deeply, his head flying up so that he sat upright. The sudden movement made the world spin and his head pound even harder, but Finn fought through it all. _Tame the negative and focus on the objective, _the voice of his old mentor commanded from the depths of his memory_. _Everything he had been looking for was right in front of him. The long months of searching were finally at an end because Kahlan had found him. There was so much he wanted to say and ask her, things that she would probably want to know as well. However Finn knew if he didn't get away from Rorick's men neither would have the chance.

Moaning as his head screamed in pain, Finn clawed his way forward to the bars where Kahlan stood. "Mother Confessor please, I need your help to escape. If I don't break free of this cage I'll be taken back to Rorick."

"Why have they imprisoned you Finn? What crimes do they say you've committed?" Kahlan leaned closer to the bars to see his face properly. Something in her subconscious itched. When she reached for it, it was like trying to remember a forgotten dream and just out of reach.

"There's no time to explain Mother Confessor. I promise I'll tell you everything, just get me away from here first!" Finn's voice raised an octave to desperation. His eyes flooded with tears as the agony in his skull threatened to send him back down to the ground.

Kahlan opened her mouth to respond, but the door to the inn flew open and men poured out. There were five in total, all large and imposing with weapons tucked on every available space on their torsos. Anger twisted all their faces into scowls, the only friendly face amongst them Nancy who meekly kept to the back of the group. The man who had assumed position in the lead of the group carefully extracted a curved blade from a scabbard at his back. The muscles in his arms tensed and flexed, making the scars crossing his flesh ripple.

"Nancy here says you want to set our prisoner free." His dark eyes probed Kahlan, giving extra special attention to her feminine curves. "Nobody is taking the lad. He is the property of Rorick and coming back with us."

Kahlan stepped away from the bars despite the groaned protest of Finn. She was not about to be intimidated by a group of ruffians who abducted young men on orders of another. "I am Kahlan Amnell, Mother Confessor and I tell you the boy is going nowhere with you until I have heard the facts of this case. I urge to you lay down your weapon so that we may discuss this with civil heads."

The sword glinted in the sun. "The hell we will. I don't care if you're the Lord Rahl's favourite wench, the only orders I take come from Rorick. Now get out of here!"

He lunged forward, obviously aiming to shove Kahlan backwards. Experience flowed through her muscles and guided her to dart to the left. With her opponent overreaching, it was simple enough to clasp her hands together as though she were wielding an axe and bring them down in a harsh blow to the back of his neck and shoulders. He grunted with the impact and skidded to the ground a few paces away.

Silence descended on the village court yard. The remaining four men looked stunned that the Mother Confessor had so soundly bested their captain. Behind her, Kahlan heard the scurry of feet and guessed the women were getting the children indoors. She really didn't want to fight these men, but if they continued to physically restrain Finn then she would do what was necessary. Kahlan had spent years fighting Darken Rahl's armies, and had seen off more than her fair share of Quads. It remained to be seen if a handful of thugs for hire would pose a serious threat.

The man in the dirt groaned as he tried to pick himself up. "Get her!" He spluttered between mouthfuls of dirt.

All at once the men lunged toward her. In the blink of an eye, Kahlan reached down to her boots and retrieved her daggers. Spinning the deadly blades in her palms, she gripped them so the blades faced toward her and the ends toward the oncoming foursome. They were staggered in their approach which gave Kahlan a slight advantage.

Side-stepping the first lackey, she brought her right arm up in an arc, the blade of her dagger slicing the flesh across the back of his upper arm. Kahlan's left arm came up to meet her right, and her arms crossed above her just in time to meet the descending arm of the second thug who had been trying to club her across the head with a mace. With his arm trapped above her, Kahlan kicked straight forward with her leg. The soft flesh of his gut easily gave way under the force of the blow, sending him staggering backwards and into his companion who was close on his heels.

That only left the forth who rushed toward her with a sword. Kahlan swung her right arm down in a stabbing motion, deflecting the path of the sword. With her feet firmly planted on the ground, she twisted her torso and brought the metal pommel of the left dagger directly into the side of his head. A sickening crunching sound was all Kahlan heard as the man slumped to the ground, eyes rolling into the back of his head. She stepped over him without a thought, and slammed the pommels of both daggers against the lock keeping the door of Finn's cage locked. The clash of metal rang out, just before the lock splintered completely and fell off. Pulling the door open, Kahlan slid one blade to Finn before stepping back across the fallen man to face the remaining four. They had group together and now eyed the Mother Confessor warily.

"Finn is under my protection," she announced, pointing her remaining dagger toward the gathered men whilst Finn used the other to break the link of the chain binding him to the cage. "Any who try to do him harm will answer to me. Until I have made my decision on his crimes you will not transport him anywhere."

The leader stepped forward. "You don't know what you're doing Confessor! He is dangerous. He's killed before, and will do it again." He saw the flicker of doubt crossing Kahlan's face and seized his advantage. He began walking toward her, taking easy measured steps and holding his hands up to show his lack of weapon. "He's a murderer, and you've just set him lose. Only Rorick can control the boy. Let me lock him up and take him back. You have my word we'll treat him well all the way."

"Kahlan watch out!"

She was too slow in turning around at Finn's warning to see the fallen lackey lunging toward her with a short sword she hadn't seen him carrying. Kahlan could see it all happening before her eyes, him coming at her with a sword and she was moving too slowly to defend herself. She would be impaled on its end, right in the centre of her chest and would die here in this inconsequential little village. Richard would find her body and weep no doubt, losing the will to fight. And the mission to defeat the Keeper would be lost because her heart would be still, her spirit a plaything for Darken Rahl. All because she'd allowed a common thug to distract her.

Whatever her dark thoughts led her too, none of them came to fruition. Finn leapt from the cage at the final moment, crashing down on top of the man. The sword was knocked off course, instead slicing harmlessly through the air.

Kahlan felt the arm snake around her, pinning her hands to her side. More importantly, she felt the cold kiss of a blade against her throat.

"Get off Makin, Finn," he growled next to her ear, "or I slice her pretty little head right off her shoulders."

Finn hesitated at that, his first hovering in the air above the Makin's head that he held up by the hair. His twilight eyes narrowed on Kahlan being held in such a manner. Only he didn't do what he was told. Still holding him by the hair, Finn dragged the attacker up by it. He didn't have a dagger to Makin's throat, instead he simply clasped it in his hand.

"You've got five seconds to unhand the Mother Confessor Niall," Finn responded slowly, "or I end your brother's life right now."

Kahlan felt Niall shift uncomfortably behind her, the blade easing up from pressing into her windpipe ever so slightly. So these two were brothers, Niall and Makin, and apparently Niall was not ready to gamble with his brother's life.

"How do I know you won't do it once I let her go?" Niall's eyes narrowed into slits as he stood behind Kahlan like she was some kind of shield.

A slow smile spread across Finn's face. "You don't. But it isn't me you should be worried about. Do you know who that woman is? She is Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor. You won't find a more powerful Confessor than her, Niall. And if you do anything to hurt her, the Seeker of Truth will hunt you down to the ends of the earth in vengeance. Assuming the Wizard of the First Order or the Seeker's pet Mord'Sith doesn't find you first." Finn licked his lips, looking like he was enjoying striking fear in Niall's heart. Kahlan frowned at the way Cara was described, but couldn't deny the accuracy. At the same time, it made her wonder how Finn knew so much about them all. "Just think of all the people who will witness it."

With the suggestion planted, Niall glanced around him. Finn was right. Several villagers were stood in doorways and leaning out of windows, watching what was happening. Any one of them could report back to the Seeker of his actions, and the last thing he needed was an enemy as powerful as that. Sucking in a breath, Niall grudgingly relaxed his arm and lowered the blade from Kahlan's throat. He took a step back, and she immediately side stepped away from him, rubbing her neck.

Finn nudged his captive forward, eventually releasing his grip and shoving him toward Niall. He caught his brother, quickly checking to see if he was unharmed by his encounter with Finn. The wound on the side of his face from Kahlan's dagger had stopped oozing blood but he looked the worse for wear.

"What is the meaning of this?" A new voice spluttered behind Finn. "Who are you people and what are you doing in our village? We don't want any trouble here, you hear?"

Nancy stepped forward and moved to her husband's side who had emerged from the village hall. He was dressed in a tunic of dark brown and black leather pants, obviously well worn and used to life outdoors. Apart from the simple chain around his neck, Kahlan would have guessed he was just like any other aging villager.

"Gregory, this is Kahlan Amnell the Mother Confessor." He turned a pair of wide brown eyes on Kahlan, who nodded by way of greeting. "These men here were sent by Rorick to take this lad to him. The Mother Confessor does not want that to happen."

The village elder stepped forward, his forehead creased into a deep frown. He glanced between the three parties, before stopping in front of Kahlan. "It is an honour to have you in our village Mother Confessor. I only wish it could be under better circumstances." He glanced to Niall and his men. "You're here for the boy, are you?"

Niall nodded. "He is the property of Lord Rorick and he wants him returned immediately. I don't need to remind you of all that Rorick has done for you and your village these past months, Gregory. A powerful friend is difficult to come by these days." Niall's eyes narrowed on Finn. "I'd hate to see you make a decision that would damage that friendship."

Gregory shook his head. "Rorick wants him, you say?" His voice sounded tired and defeated. "Of course we will abide by his wishes. Mother Confessor, I ask you humbly to please allow these men to do their jobs. We are a small village, and we rely on the support of Rorick to help us in the harsh months."

Finn looked alarmed, but Kahlan was furious. "Absolutely not, sir. These men have held Finn captive in the most appalling manner possible. I will not allow him to be taken until I know the facts of the case against him. Rorick may be your friend, but I am the Mother Confessor. Both he and you are bound to honour my wishes."

The elder looked pained, and went so far as to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. His shoulders heaved in a heavy sigh as he finally looked at Kahlan again. "My deepest apologies Mother Confessor. But I cannot risk Rorick's displeasure. Please do not stand in the way of these men. I wouldn't want to see you hurt."

Kahlan's eyes widened in abject surprise. Was this man, an elder of his people, really going to take the decision of a lord over that of the Mother Confessor? Had the world gone completely mad in the time she'd spent in the Old World?

"You disappoint me in your decision Gregory." Kahlan's voice was cold and her words sharp. "You do what you must to keep Rorick's favour. I am duty bound to serve justice, and for that reason will do what I can to prevent this."

"And we will do what we must to stop you." Nancy said from beside her husband.

Kahlan carefully took in the villagers who had started to gather in the courtyard and the weapons they had brought. Pitch forks, axes and various clubs fashioned from wood. These weren't soldiers, but Kahlan believed they would do everything they could to stop her. Their loyalty to Rorick meant more to them than following her. The Mother Confessor found herself wishing that Richard had been serious about coming to find her if she wasn't back before him. This was going to get ugly very quickly and she would need his strength.

They all stood in silent stillness, until the man Finn had held captive shattered it. Snatching the short sword from his brother's hand, Makin dashed toward Finn who shrank back in fear. Kahlan moved to stop him, but was tackled from the side by Nancy and Gregory who wrestled her to the ground. Even if she confessed them both, Kahlan knew she was helpless to stop the attack and could only watch as Makin hurt Finn.

Just as Makin was upon Finn, he acted. His head pounded and his limbs ached, but the adrenaline of the moment made him move. He dodged to the side of the blow, his left arm clamping down over the sword arm. With Makin's arm pinned against Finn's side, he realised his mistake. He opened his mouth to howl in fear, but no sound came out as the boy's hand snatched at his throat. The instant the contact was made, all present felt a slight change in the air pressure as well as hear what sounded like a rumble of thunder in the distance. Kahlan in particular froze in horror as she recognised what was happening before her.

Finn's eyes returned to normal from inky black and he released his grip on Makin, who dropped to his knees before him.

"Command me Confessor."

"NO!" Niall roared, rushing for Finn and his brother.

Even Gregory and Nancy released Kahlan, watching the events unfolding in shock as they realised who and what Finn truly was. It was only the Mother Confessor who had the presence of mind to act. She reached out for Niall, stopping him before he got close to Finn and Makin.

"Don't," she said softly. "He is lost to you now." Niall shuddered next to her, as she focused her gaze on Finn. His expression was blank, his eyes devoid of any real emotion. It was only Makin who looked animated, standing up to put himself between Finn and everyone else.

A cold, slithering trickle of horror coiled itself in the pit of her stomach. _What have I done?_ In her haste to see justice done, Kahlan had inadvertently unleashed a peerless terror on the world. How could she have been so blind to the danger? Kahlan wondered if she considered herself so above the local laws that she failed to see the big picture. Finn was a male Confessor. Cognitive conflict almost floored Kahlan, as everything in her training told her this was not possible. Male confessors were killed at birth. It simply couldn't be that one had lived to near adulthood.

Then she remembered her sister's son. Had it not been for the intervention of the Mord'Sith, he could have lived to Finn's age. Had other confessors been unable to end the lives of their infant sons and allowed them to live? Kahlan was scandalized by the mere thought of it. Few things were more dangerous than a male confessor. The fact that Finn had survived this long was a testament to how malevolently powerful they truly were.

"You did this." Niall hissed, bringing Kahlan out of the rush of logic that had tried to explain the situation. "I told you not release him. I told you he was a murderer. Now that monster took my brother from me! You will pay for this Mother Confessor!"

Niall howled with rage and turned, working a dagger loose from his leather wrist cuff. Kahlan tried to back away but couldn't do it fast enough.

"Touch her and I will command your brother to kill himself," Finn calmly announced, his dead eyes focused on Niall. The man stopped, his eyes filled with sorrow and rage as he looked at the woman he felt was responsible for this. "Kahlan, we need to leave now. Come with me."

Now it was Kahlan's turn to look angry. "Leave with you?" She cried. "You are a danger to every living thing from here to the People's Palace. I'm not going anywhere with you Finn. If anything, I'm going to put you back in that cage and destroy you myself."

Kahlan wielded her remaining dagger expertly. She may have been responsible for releasing a male confessor onto the world, but she would most certainly make it right. Finn caught her eye, and for a moment Kahlan froze. He looked sad, almost betrayed by her response.

This was not how he'd wanted his first meeting with the Mother Confessor to end. Finn had always known she'd react badly to the news, but he'd assumed she would give him the benefit of the doubt to explain himself first. Clearly he was wrong, and self preservation was necessary in order to survive this.

"Don't let anyone come after me." He ordered to Makin. Suddenly animated, Making blocked the path as best he could as Finn turned and ran toward the exit of the village.

The world swam all around him, but he refused to stop. He needed to get as far away from here and re-evaluate everything. Coming to the Mother Confessor had been a mistake.

In front of Finn, one of the village children ran out, her hands grasping for the wooden ball that rolled away from her. Behind him, Finn heard a woman shriek the little girl's name realising her daughter had wandered away and was now in his path. The little girl grabbed her ball and looked up to see Finn racing toward her. She couldn't get out of his way fast enough and he snatched her up in his arms, turning back to face Rorick's men and several villagers who were giving chase. Makin was somewhere lost in the crowd, but that didn't matter.

Placing his hand over her throat, Finn shouted back toward the group led by Kahlan. "If anyone follows me, I'll kill her."

With that Finn turned and bolted to the exit, holding onto the girl as she wailed for her mother. He dashed out between two buildings and out of sight of everyone in the courtyard.

Kahlan's chest heaved with fear of what Finn might do to the child. Male confessors were twisted to madness by the power they had which they couldn't control. She couldn't be responsible for any more death and so turned to Niall and the others.

"I will go after Finn myself. Stay here and get more of Rorick's men. We'll need the extra support." She grabbed Niall by the arm to make him listen closely. "Tell Rorick I will personally return Finn to him, only I can't guarantee in what condition."

With nothing more to say, Kahlan took off into a run, following the path Finn had taken. She dashed out of the entrance to the village and toward the path which led through the trees. Silently, she prayed to the creator to keep the little girl safe. She couldn't bear the thought of a child being harmed because she had been too foolish to see Finn for what he was. She only hoped she could get to Finn in time before he did it, because there was no doubt in her mind that's what he would do. He was a male confessor, the only creature with a greater capacity for pain and torment than a Mord'Sith.

Kahlan hadn't even reached the trees when she heard the soft whimper of a child. Coming to an abrupt halt she looked to the left of the path where she saw the little girl crouched down behind the trunk of a cut down tree. Kahlan called to her softly, startling the child into a renewed flood of tears. It only took a moment, but Kahlan reached the girl and swept her up into her arms, holding her gently and whispering softly into her hair that she would be alright.

The child was unharmed and hadn't been confessed which puzzled Kahlan. She deduced that Finn must have left the village and simply dumped the child rather than succumbing the darker urges linked to his power. Glancing around the woodland path, Kahlan confirmed the suspicion as she saw that she and the child were alone.

Finn was nowhere to be seen.


	3. Making it Right

_**A/N**: Update. I realised my own epic!fail the other day when watching olders episodes of the show. There's already been an episode called Cursed. Total fail on my part. Because of that, I've renamed the story and the new title actually fits in quite well with my plot. Anywho, apologies it has taken me a little while to get this up. I've got essays on the go which are draining me of my focus. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and would love it if you read and review. Reviews get updates. I'm hoping if I review MistressDarkness' awesome story 'Powerless' that it'll get an update too! Anyway, if you're reading please get to reviewin'. Thanks! I disclaim!_

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Cara smiled smugly to herself, shifting the rabbits hanging over her shoulder again so that the cords weren't pressing on her collar bone. She glanced behind her to see Richard following a few paces behind, an amused smile on his lips. It had been a successful hunt, with the Mord'Sith's instincts about the animals proving right. And she'd even had the opportunity to impress her Lord Rahl by demonstrating the techniques he'd taught her for capturing and killing the animals in the most painless way possible yet. As much as she found the teaching tedious and just a tad pointless, she resolutely refused to fail. Seeing Richard's pride in her oddly made Cara feel something like what she imagined happiness to be.

Very little penetrated the tough outer shell she had built up around herself over the years through brutal training and life as a Mord'Sith. Most emotions were dead to her now, and those few that still found their way in were heavily watered down versions of what they should have been. However since her journey with the Seeker had started, more had started to get beyond the cold exterior and touch her internally. Seeing Richard pleased with her made her happy, and happiness was not something she could recall feeling at any time even before becoming a Mord'Sith.

Unless she counted Leo.

He was the obvious downside to feeling anything. Cara had allowed her emotions to get the better of her and allowing herself to feel something for Leo had turned out to do more harm than good. Her heart had been partly exposed to him and was bruised because of it - because of his death. She couldn't help but wonder if the Mord'Sith were right in their mission to purge all affectionate emotions. It left you focused, detached and free from emotional burden. That life was gone now though, and there was really no way to get the emotional shield back. Whilst she may not have been ready to admit it, Cara knew that she would take heartache over never feeling affection for another any day of the week.

"You did well," Richard spoke from the side of her. Cara realised she'd been too caught up in herself and hadn't noticed his approach. "When this is all over, you should consider becoming a guide for the woods."

The Mord'Sith levelled him with an icy cold stare. "You cannot possibly be serious Seeker."

Richard smiled at her. "Why not? Your hunting skills are very good, and your tracking is getting better every day. If I teach you to recognise and name the different plants and trees and features of the wood, you'll be all set." He beamed at her. "You'd make a great guide."

She frowned. That was easily the most ridiculous suggestion he had ever come up with. And there had been plenty of idiotic, suicidal and life endangering suggestions to pick from. "I don't have the disposition for it." Translation, she would probably end up beating those travellers that got on her nerves.

"You pretend you don't," Richard replied, turning his head to look at her properly. His wide eyes seemed to be searching for something in her face. "But underneath all that leather and attitude, there's a heart beating. A good heart."

Cara shook her head. "You are incorrect. Beneath the leather is merely more leather." The surprised blinking of Richard's eyes didn't go unnoticed by her. "I am a Mord'Sith, sworn to protect the Lord Rahl at any cost," she explained, casting her gaze downward for a moment. "Training, fighting and killing are the only things I will ever know."

She was anything but ashamed of that. Cara was prepared to reconnect with her humanity, but there were parts of herself that were too deeply imbedded to change. First and foremost, she was a Mord'Sith. A mistress of pain and bodyguard of Richard Rahl, Lord and Master of D'Hara. If that was stripped away from her, Cara wasn't sure there would be anything left beneath it.

It was Richard's turn to frown. He stopped half in front of her, forcing her to pause as well. "You don't really believe that." Cara cut him with a side look through her slightly narrowed eyes. Richard sighed, clearly frustrated with her reluctance. "I know Leo didn't believe that."

The Mord'Sith almost stumbled from her stationary feet, her lips thinning into a line of displeasure. The experience was still too raw to be talked about in such a casual manner. Her involvement with Leo was not something that could be discussed around the camp fire, or at any time at all if she had her way. Logically, Cara knew Richard was just trying to reach the woman behind the torturous monster, but using the memory of Leo felt like a hammer blow to her aching chest. She was having trouble enough reconciling her heartache with her Mord'Sith training as it was. To have Leo used as a method to illustrate how she could become more than she thought possible was not something she could compute.

Cara opened her mouth to tell Richard as much, when the commotion on the other side of the trees stopped her. Richard's head whipped around first, his ears straining to hear the sounds clearly over the normal forest din as his body followed in turning. A man's voice yelled at something, the words lost in the distance between his mouth and Richard's ear. The thunder of horse hooves churned up the ground beneath them from the sounds of things, further muffling the voice until it became one single roar of anger. Richard couldn't make out how many beasts were riding, but it was definitely more than one.

From the distance of the sound, the Seeker guessed that it was heading toward the camp. Zedd would be there, along with Kahlan who should have returned by now. An angry horse rider did not bode well for either of them, nor did an angry horse rider with potential back up. Concern ignited in his veins, and all thoughts of heart to heart talks with Cara were forgotten.

"The camp. Now."

They were three simple words, but Cara was already a pace or two behind Richard as he began running through the trees toward where Zedd, and he hoped Kahlan, were waiting for them. Trees whipped passed him on all sides, branches snatching and scratching at his head and body as he battled his way forward. Cara was close behind, batting away the branches that sprang back in Richard's wake. She knew he had sensed trouble, and was more than willing to follow his instincts. As the Seeker of Truth, they were far more honed than most at picking up even the most subtle of dangers when they presented themselves.

Richard exploded through the trees first, leaping through the air and into the clearing. He thanked the spirits he had come when he had, for he appeared just in time to see Kahlan falling under the strike of a sword from a horse rider.

With his heart leaping into his throat, Richard was petrified that he had just seen his confessor slain before his very eyes. His breath whooshed from his lungs when he realised no blood spilled from where Kahlan was struck with the blade. Richard guessed that her attacker had used the flat edge of his weapon to knock her down rather than the edge, which meant she was still alive. He couldn't say the man who had struck her would remain that way for very long.

Kahlan had landed roughly on the ground, and was still face down. Her arms moved limply as she tried to right herself but she wasn't having much success.

Gripping the Sword of Truth, Richard brought it out in a lightning fast arc. The unique ring gave the horse riders reason to pause. There were five of them. Two horses had two men riding them, the other had one. All the men looked angry, and judging by their attire they were not simple farmers from the village nearby. They were armed with an array of knives and blades and would probably be deadly to any they met. Richard lifted his sword, aiming the tip as an offer of a challenge to the single rider who had struck Kahlan. The anger of the sword burned in his veins, his very soul linking to the magic of the weapon that gave him physical power.

The Seeker tore into action, striding across the camp toward his foe. He gave a great battle cry and launched himself into the air. The power of his leg muscles propelled him upwards, and with a hard swing of the Sword of Truth, he disarmed the rider in a single blow. The man looked stunned and put up little effort as Richard gripped him by the tunic and dragged him off the animal. Whining in terror, the horse broke into a gallop toward the opposite trees. The rider carefully got back to his feet, reaching for his sword that lay on the ground a few feet away. Once more armed, rider and Seeker began to circle each other slowly, their weapons raised ready to strike the other down. Richard did his best to put himself between the rider and Kahlan. He wanted to check if she was alright, but knew he had to dispatch the danger first.

Cara had wasted little time after Richard had charged off. She had gone straight for the other riders, unleashing her deadly Agiels as she closed the distance between them. With a weapon in either hand, she thrust them forward, pressing them into the thighs of the riders. Both men howled with pain, their entire bodies going rigid with the intense agony. Releasing them from the Agiel's touch, Cara watched as the men collapsed off the horses to the ground, both still moaning in pain, clutching at their legs.

That left the second horse, whose riders had attempted to back away after seeing the Mord'Sith. She took a menacing step toward them, and would have charged had it not been for the crackle of powerful magic in the air.

Zedd had come dashing out of the trees a moment before, furiously trying to retie his robes as he did so being interrupted during a call of nature. A quick glance at the happenings had seen the Wizard of the First Order act. Raising his skeletal hands, he aimed the stretched fingers toward the second horse which had backed away from Cara. Muttering an incantation under his breath, he unleashed a stream of shimmering white magic that streaked from him toward the riders. The impact was immediate, and sent both riders tumbling off the horse and to the ground as though they had been hit with a battering ram. Zedd's lips curled with pleasure and he stalked toward the fallen intruders.

One of them made the mistake of reaching for the axe he had dropped when falling. The blast of Wizard Fire that struck the ground just in front of the weapon made him recoil in terror. The intruders huddled together, almost back to back as they were trapped on either side by Wizard and Mord'Sith. They glanced to their leader who fared no better.

Richard was easily more than a match for the rider he had dismounted. He brought his sword up diagonally across himself, blocking the latest path of his opponent's sword. The metallic clang rang through the clearing, and Richard clenched his jaw. The Seeker pushed back hard, and launched himself into a front kick that sent the rider stumbling backwards. Cara was waiting for him and ducked down, bringing her Agiels across the back of his knees with the pin point velocity of a whip. The man hissed in pain as his knees crumbled beneath him, and toppled back into the other men behind on the ground.

With a flick of his hands, Zedd unleashed a Wizard's Web that trapped the group instantly. Fear shone in their eyes as they recognised their predicament. They were at the mercy of Zedd and Cara, but neither was paying attention to their captives. Instead all attention was on Richard, who had sheathed the Sword of Truth and gone to the aid of Kahlan.

The Mother Confessor still hadn't got back up after her fall, her arms lying motionless on either side of her now. Kneeling down next to her, Richard carefully slipped one arm underneath Kahlan and used the other to grip her arm. With as much care as he was capable of, Richard rolled Kahlan over toward him, so that she became safely tucked in his arms. He supported her back on his raised knee whilst his forearm gave her head something to rest against. Gently he brushed back the thick strands of dark hair from her features, caressing the skin of her face as it was revealed. He breathed a sigh of relief to see that her arctic blue eyes were open, and focused entirely upon him.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, his eyes scanning her body for any immediate injuries. There were none apparent, but she'd taken a serious blow to the back. She could have been disorientated at the very least.

Kahlan nodded, placing her hand on Richard's upper arm. Her ears rang and her skull felt like it had been kicked by a horse. "Yes, aside from a headache. Do you think you could help me up?"

She asked, and immediately Richard gently helped Kahlan sit up before pulling her up to her feet. Even though she was standing now, he still held her within the circle of his arms and she made no effort to break free. Instead her hands rested against his broad chest as she took in several steadying breaths. The smack of the sword had sent the world spinning after she had run back from the village to the camp. She'd told Niall and the others to remain there and send for reinforcements from Rorick. No sooner had she taken the child that Finn had abducted back to the village did they try and seize her. She'd managed to escape, but they'd given chase. Kahlan was thankful she'd made it back to the clearing and the others were there waiting for her.

Back on her feet, it was only now that her vision was slowing down to normal again. The world was righting itself, but she wasn't ready to leave the support of the Seeker just yet.

Richard placed his chin on the top of Kahlan's head, turning to narrow his eyes toward the intruders who they had just fought. Kahlan responded by resting her head against his chest, and he listened as her breathing slowed back to its normal pace. Wrapped in his strength and warmth, Kahlan inhaled deeply of Richard's scent. It was masculine and intoxicating, and gave her the anchor she needed to get her senses back in focus. Her blue eyes flicked open and the world was right again.

Pulling back from Richard's embrace, she still held lightly to his arm as they began walking across the clearing toward the captured riders. Zedd stood with his arms folded, a scrawny sentry eyeballing the captives nearest to him. Cara moved in alternately wider and closer circles, letting her Agiels brush the air in front of the captives.

"Zedd, can you release their heads?" Richard enquired, placing a steadying hand on Kahlan's lower back as they stood before the riders.

The Wizard nodded. His fingers rolled one after the other, and a faint pop was heard as the Wizard's Web was lowered sufficiently enough to allow their captives to talk.

"Why did you attack the Mother Confessor?" Richard demanded, directing his question at the leader of the band of riders.

His eyes narrowed, glancing between Richard and Kahlan. "She murdered my brother!" He bellowed, the veins in his neck bulging as he obviously struggled against his magical bonds. "She allowed a monster to be unleashed on the world and she has to pay, Mother Confessor or not!"

Richard's eyes widened as he saw how the man's words affected Kahlan. She looked crestfallen and defeated at the same time, as though his words had been a physical slap across her face. She subtly leaned closer to Richard, and he knew then that she felt responsible in some way and needed him. He tightened the grip of his arm around her, giving her as much strength as he could.

"I didn't murder Makin," Kahlan answered, her voice soft against the roar she had been attacked with. "And I didn't know what Finn was. If I had," Kahlan faltered a moment, cringing at the sound of her own failure. "I would never have set him free. I didn't know Niall."

"You didn't know," Niall mocked, eyes glaring at Kahlan. "Your ignorance will be the death of us all. And you may not have killed Makin, but because of you my brother is no more. Even now he's being restrained in the village so that he doesn't go following that abomination that twisted him. Someone has to be accountable for all this, and I say it is you!" Niall spat at the ground before Kahlan's feet, forcing her to take a step back. "You're no more a Mother Confessor than a village whore!"

Niall grunted with pain as Cara slapped an Agiel across his face. Her hand gripped the back of his head and tilted it back to look her in the eyes, the Agiel waving dangerously close to his throat. "Watch your mouth," Cara's voice lowered to an intimidating level. "Or I'll give you something truly painful to shout about."

Richard frowned at Cara's methods, but did nothing to stop them. Instead he turned to Kahlan, placing his hands on her shoulders to make her face him fully. She looked devastated, and it hurt him to see her in such a state. "Kahlan," he said softly, catching her chin with his fore finger. "Look at me. Tell me what happened."

With little insistence from Richard, Kahlan slowly raised her crystal blue eyes to his. They swam with unshed tears, and the Seeker wanted nothing more than to take the woman he loved into his arms and hold her until the pain went away. Duty and responsibility steadied his hands however, and he simply hoped Kahlan knew that he would never judge her no matter what had happened.

"In the village," she began hesitantly, aware of all eyes being upon her. "There was a boy locked in a cell built onto a wagon. He was hurt, and had been left outside all night in that rain. The villagers said that he was being transported to some man named Rorick and I got the impression that Rorick wasn't too popular with the locals."

Niall scoffed, and was rewarded with another snap of the Agiel to silence him.

Kahlan swallowed, and continued. "I wanted to know his crimes, to decide for myself whether such treatment was necessary. Niall and his men refused to comply, and tried to move me along. When I tried to free the boy, the villagers intervened to stop me. The boy, Finn, freed himself of his chains with my dagger and prevented Niall's brother from killing me. But then...then..."

The Mother Confessor's voice cracked on the last word as she realised the horror of what she had done. If she'd just picked up the bread and returned to her friends without interfering, none of this would have happened. Niall was right to be angry with her. It was her fault Makin was confessed, and that a male confessor was free to unleash havoc all across the lands.

"It's okay Kahlan, just tell me what happened." Richard whispered, holding her head between both of his hands.

"When Finn was freed, Makin tried to attack him. And Finn he...he confessed him." Kahlan let the words hang between them all before she admitted her part in the whole affair. Zedd looked horrified, and even Cara looked faintly confused. Kahlan could see the muscle working furiously in Richard's jaw, and knew despite his mask of compassion that he was probably terribly disappointed with her. "I released him, Richard. I released a male confessor and he ran away. There's no telling where he's gone or what he'll do now that he's free." Kahlan turned her gaze on Niall who looked furious. "Niall is right to be angry with me. I deserve to be punished for my stupidity, as well as my hand in freeing such a threat."

"See? Even the Mother Confessor agrees she should be judged and punished for what she's done." Niall's voice filled with emotion, his anger tempered by raw sorrow. "I've lost my brother because she released the boy. He's still breathing, but the brother I've known all my life is gone. Someone has to pay for that."

"My poor child," Zedd rumbled in his deep voice, ignoring the impassioned claim from Niall. "I understand your feelings of guilt, but you couldn't have known what the boy was. You simply did as any of us would have in that situation. You saw injustice and tried to right it. No-one can blame you for that."

Niall spluttered with indigence. "We're not talking about a petty grain thief sorcerer! This devil has destroyed countless lives and will do even more harm now that he's free! All thanks to the Mother Confessor. She should be punish..."

He wasn't given the change to finish his sentence as Cara held the Agiel against his throat. "I think we've heard quite enough out of you. Speak again without my permission and I'll remove your tongue."

"Cara." Richard warned with his voice low and full of authority.

The Mord'Sith rolled her eyes and sighed with irritation before finally tearing the rod away from the neck, leaving Niall gasping in pain. Replacing the weapon at her hip, she walked to where the others were gathered. Her leather squeaked as she folded her arms across her chest, her hip jutting to the side as she rested her weight on one leg.

"I don't understand what the big problem is. It's only one confessor." Cara glanced between her three companions. Confessors wielded a mighty power, but between the three of them she was sure they could capture and subdue just one. "What's so bad about a male confessor anyway? I don't think I've ever heard of one before."

Kahlan looked grief stricken, unable to answer Cara's question. Instead Zedd took the responsibility, sparing Kahlan the task. "Male confessors are killed at birth Cara. They cannot control the bloodlust that comes with wielding the confessor's magic, only women can temper its hunger. Men turn to terror and darkness and cannot be allowed to live as their power drives them mad. They abuse their magic, and confess any and all they come into contact with." Cara nodded with new understanding, as Zedd tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I cannot understand how one has lived beyond birth."

"I don't know," Kahlan whispered, not bothering to catch the tear that fell down her cheek. "But he's seen at least sixteen winters. How could a confessor have allowed him to live? We all know the danger male confessors represent, we're taught it from childhood. The Creator only knows the horrors he's been allowed to commit whilst roaming the countryside. And I set him free to continue doing it."

"A living, breathing male confessor." Zedd sighed, the burden weighing heavily on his bony shoulders for the Wizards' part in creating confessors in the first place. "There can be no greater danger to the free people."

Cara frowned, finding no logic in their heavy concern. "Then we hunt him down and do what his spineless mother couldn't do." Her hand rested on her Agiels. "We kill him."

"His touch will be deadly to you Cara," Kahlan sniffed. "You must stay out of his reach at all costs. That's assuming we can find him. He could be anywhere by now." Kahlan hesitated a moment, thinking through the logic of what she'd said. "I don't understand why he ran off. He could've confessed everyone in that village before I'd come close to stopping him, but he didn't. He used a child as a distraction and then fled."

Zedd looked repulsed. "We can never know how his twisted mind works child. They are prone to madness and a life free of reason. The important thing now is that we quickly track him and put an end to his terrorizing whilst we still have the chance. What do you say Seeker?"

Everyone turned their eyes on Richard, who had remained silent during and after Kahlan's explanation of what had happened. Kahlan expected him to be disappointed with her, and to tell her as such. She should've known better than to go to the rescue of someone so blindly. Part of Kahlan wanted Richard to admonish her. She felt like she needed to be chastised for her mistake from one that she cared about.

Unfortunately Kahlan wasn't going to get it from Richard. He was furious at the situation, but none of that fury was directed at her. He was just angry. Angry at the confessor magic that twisted boys in murderous creatures, and the burden placed on the female confessors to kill their sons. He was angry that Kahlan felt she was responsible for his existence, and that responsibility fell to her to stop the boy before he caused any more harm. More than anything else, he was angry at himself. Angry that he had gone against his better judgement and allowed Kahlan to go to the village alone, and that he didn't have the words to comfort her now that she felt so guilty, even though there was no need for her to feel that way.

Richard inhaled deeply, looking at Zedd and Cara before finally focusing on the Mother Confessor in his arms. "Zedd is right Kahlan," his features softened as he saw her tear stained cheeks. "This is not your fault. You had no way of knowing what he was and you cannot blame yourself for that. Nor will I let you feel responsible for those that he confesses now." Kahlan tried to look away, but his finger beneath her chin stopped her. "I mean it Kahlan. None of this is your fault. But I promise you we will make this right. We'll find the confessor and stop him before he hurts anyone else."

Kahlan felt like dissolving into tears there and then. Leave it to Richard to know the right words to say to make her guilt that little bit more manageable. She smiled through her tears, nodding her head to agree with him.

That only left the riders. Richard brushed a strand of hair behind Kahlan's ear, smiling affectionately at her before advancing on the magically restrained captives. His hand moved to the Sword of Truth, and it was unleashed with its characteristic ring. He held the blade before him, aimed at Niall who assumed he was about to be beheaded.

"I am sorry for what happened to your brother Niall, but you cannot blame Kahlan for what transpired." Niall shook his head, still obviously angry and needed to take it out on something. "Anyone who tries to do so will answer to me. And I won't be as merciful as the Mother Confessor." Richard turned and nodded to Zedd who released the Wizard's Web binding the men. "You have my word as the Seeker that we will help you track and defeat the male confessor before he has the chance to do anymore harm. Will you work with us Niall? We'll need your courage and that of your men if we're going to stop him."

Rising to his feet, Niall glanced at the faces looking at him before nodding his head. He could speak for the men who worked for Rorick because that was his right. He was still angry with the Mother Confessor and blamed her solely for what had happened. But he could see the logic in having the Seeker of Truth and his mighty friends as allies for the hunt. "We will Seeker. My brother will be avenged and we will see the abomination slain. What do you propose we do?"

Sheathing the sword, Richard stepped closer. "Take your men and go back to the village. Send word to Rorick that reinforcements are needed to protect the people in the area. We will proceed into the forest and begin tracking the male confessor. You'll know we've found him when your brother becomes unconfessed."

Niall nodded slowly, understanding what that entailed. The moment Finn died, those held under his power would automatically be freed. It was just a shame he couldn't deliver the killing blow himself. With a quick word to his men, they returned to round up their horses and mounted up, ready to ride back under the Seeker's orders. Niall glanced at Kahlan who had been guided to a seat by Zedd, his own gaze burning with fury. Whilst he was prepared to abide by the Seeker's wishes because they aligned with his own, that didn't mean he wasn't still angry at Kahlan for her part in things. In his eyes, she was still responsible and he would find a way to make her pay.

Unfortunately for Niall, Richard noticed the look of hate on his face. The love he held for Kahlan turned his protective side into overdrive and he had to stop himself for taking a shot at the rider. He knew what Niall was planning, from the way his scowl lingered on the Mother Confessor. He would pay lip service to working with them, but as soon as he got his chance he would slay Kahlan. Richard vowed to prevent that.

Seeing that Zedd and Cara were with Kahlan, the Seeker headed over to Niall who was preparing to lead his band of men back to the village. He positioned himself close enough to the horse Niall had mounted so that he had to stop and manoeuvre around him before he could leave.

"One more thing Niall," Richard spoke so that only Niall heard him. "You ever lay a hand on Kahlan again in anger or otherwise, and I swear to you it will be the last thing you ever do."

Niall looked shocked, pretending that it was the suggestion that he would hurt Kahlan rather than being found out. The pretence lasted a moment when he saw Richard casually laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. He finally nodded slowly, knowing full well that Richard would make good on his threat. It wasn't a question of it Richard would do as he threatened. It just meant Niall knew he needed to make sure he got the Mother Confessor alone before he took his vengeance upon her. By the time her enslaved Seeker realised what had happened, Niall planned on being far, far away with the rest of Rorick's private army between him and the Seeker.

Richard may have considered Kahlan Amnell to be infallible, but Niall didn't. He was a practical man and believed she should be punished. And if the Creator willed it, he would be the one to do it.

"Do not fail in your duty Seeker." Niall's parting words were delivered with cold disdain, bordering on a threat contained in what was unsaid. Richard didn't have the chance to respond as Niall urged his horse onward and galloped away through the clearing, his men following closely behind as they tore away from the clearing in a great thunder of hooves and disturbed earth.

Richard made sure they were gone before he headed back to his own party. He felt uneasy, not just because they were after a powerful male confessor, but also that he was working with a man he wasn't sure he could trust around Kahlan. Richard concluded that he'd just have to keep her in his sight, particularly when Niall was around.

He saw that Kahlan didn't look as devastated as she had before, instead had become quiet and sat alone on a rock with her arms folded loosely around herself. Cara and Zedd were busily making preparations, packing away what they needed ahead of their journey. The Wizard had been right in his estimation of Finn's potential for danger. It would take a great deal of stealth and skill to catch and subdue him. Richard preferred to focus on the hunt and the capture because he knew there could be no other ending other than Finn's death. Male confessors were condemned to death, and the Seeker felt sorrow for the boy. He would die for no reason other than being born to a power that he couldn't control.

It wouldn't sway him from the task though, and Richard knew he would be the one to make the killing blow. He couldn't ask it of Kahlan, she already had enough to deal with on her own. Taking a seat next to her, Richard eased his arm around her and Kahlan automatically melted into him, her head falling onto his shoulder.

"We have to stop him Richard," Kahlan murmured softly. "No matter what it takes, Finn has to be killed. He can't be allowed to harm innocent people any more than he already has."

Richard shushed her gently, pressing his lips against the crown of her head. "We will Kahlan. As soon as we're prepared, you can lead us to where Finn was last seen and we can track him. Realistically he can't have gone far and there are no other towns around here for leagues." Richard glanced at the trees to where he knew the village was. "If he does come back this way, Niall and his men will make sure the people are safe. Either way, he won't be able to confess anyone for now."

"You're right." Kahlan agreed, finding comfort in Richard's wisdom. There were no people anywhere near for Finn to enslave. They would catch up to him longer before he got close to any of the other towns or villages, she was sure.

" Just promise me one thing Kahlan..."

She lifted her head from his shoulder, her perfect blue orbs focusing on his face. His tone was soft yet serious, and Kahlan had the feeling she wouldn't like what came next. is toneHis"Promise you what?"

"Promise me that no matter what happens, you will not go after Finn yourself." Kahlan's mouth opened to object, and Richard hurried on before she could. "I know you feel responsible for setting him free, but rushing after him to stop him could end with you getting hurt. It's my fault that you were put in the position in the first place and I won't let it happen again." Kahlan's eyes glittered with fresh tears as she realised Richard felt responsible for her own guilt. "We will track Finn and stop him together, not you alone. Promise me that, please Kahlan?"

The Mother Confessor hesitated a moment. If the opportunity presented itself, she knew she would have taken Finn down herself. But looking into Richard's wide eyes weakened her resolve. She wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt him, and right now he was asking her to save herself from harm which wasn't an unreasonable request. And of course she could trust Richard to get the task done. How could she refuse him his request to just stay out of harms way?

"I promise."

Richard exhaled a sigh of relief, a faint smile coming to his lips. Those had been the words he wanted to hear, and he dearly wished he could have believed her when she said them. However he knew Kahlan well, perhaps better than she knew herself. At this moment he was sure she meant what she said. When faced with Finn however, Richard feared what Kahlan would do to right her perceived mistake. It would split his focus watching Kahlan and defeating the male confessor, but he would do it somehow. Kahlan was too important to him to do anything else.

Both Mother Confessor and Seeker stood up from the rock as one as the Wizard of the First Order approached them. "Everything is ready. We should leave now before Niall and his ruffians come back. Something tells me they won't listen to your orders for very long Seeker and will be out hunting for the boy long before lunchtime."

The Seeker nodded and turned to Kahlan. She felt the expectant eyes of her companions on her, and vowed not to disappoint them. It may have been her fault that Finn had been freed to unleash terror on the countryside, but she would put right that wrong as soon as she possible could.

Kahlan threw her shoulders back and inhaled deeply to ignite her confidence. Looking every inch the Mother Confessor, she started for the exit of the clearing with the Seeker, Wizard and Mord'Sith falling into step behind her. The mission would be dangerous, but Kahlan was resolute in her refusal to fail.

No matter what happened, Kahlan would make things right.


	4. Discovered

**Bleeding Love  
**

With his lungs burning, Finn finally collapsed before the trunk of a mighty oak tree. His legs felt like they were lacking bones to keep them solid, the muscles having melted away from all the exertion. His chest heaved in rapid, awkward breaths as the air seemed to burn his throat with every single intake. And his head, still aching from where he had hit it during his failed escape from Rorick's men was alive with pain. Liquid anguish swam around his skull, blinding his vision and dulling his senses.

Groaning with the collective agony, Finn feebly tried to curl himself up into a ball and shrink into the void of pain. He couldn't tell how long he had run for. He couldn't even remember what he had been running from, the pain was so great. Exhaling shakily, he tried to use that lack of knowledge as a focus to block out the pain. Step by step, the events leading to his fleeing fell into place. After releasing the girl and whispering for her to wait for someone to come and get her, he'd run into the trees. Finn had known the villagers would ignore his command to stay put. They were good, hard working people who would rescue one of their own. He was glad of that, knowing that the little girl wouldn't be hurt. If only he could have said the same thing for himself.

Countless trees and outcroppings of bush and shrub had passed by in a blur. Finn didn't know where he was going, not even the direction, he just had to get away. Escaping from Rorick's men was the main objective, but the mistrustful gaze of Kahlan forced his feet to put themselves one in front of the other.

Everything had gone wrong. The Mother Confessor hadn't been meant to meet him in this way. Finn had rehearsed it for almost four years, how he would approach her and gain her trust before explaining who and what he was. He would have time to show her that he presented no danger to her, or to anyone else for that matter. All he wanted was her guidance, but it seemed he'd simply earned her wrath. She said herself what she would have done had she known what he was. How could Finn compete with that?

Centuries of knowledge and training guided Kahlan. Everything she knew told her Finn was easily the most relevant danger to her and everyone else. Why should she have reacted any differently? Why should she see him as anything other than a danger?

With the fog of pain lifting slightly, Finn cracked open his eyes. Sunlight filtered through the branches above, sparkling in dots across him and the floor. Stretching out his arm, he pressed it against the bark of the tree. It was solid and cool to the touch, the perfect thing he needed to ground himself. He was losing himself to physical and emotional pain, a loss that was dangerous to allow. Despite the throb in his skull, Finn dragged himself up enough so that his shoulders and neck rested against the trunk of the tree.

Finn knew he couldn't blame Kahlan for being so horrified. He'd assured himself for years that he would be able to cope with her rejection, and that if he could just explain himself she'd see. Now that they'd come into contact however, he couldn't help feeling the sense of betrayal. She hadn't even given him the chance to explain to her before she'd determined to end his life. The Mother Confessor was the only person who could understand, the only person who could help him. If even she was repulsed by his very existence, how could Finn hope to convince anyone else?

Suddenly, the male confessor brought his eyes all the way open, a look of sheer panic on his face. He'd allowed himself to wallow too long. The powerful concoction of betrayal and anger and hurt had burrowed deep inside, and now he could feel the liquid thrill of his power inside. It uncoiled like a snake in the pit of his stomach, disturbed from slumber by the prospect of a meal. Finn sucked in a deep breath, doing his level best to clear his mind of negative emotions and to return to the balance he fought so hard to maintain. His gift wasn't dissuaded. The seductive chill trickled further and further up his body, new possibilities blooming in his mind and causing his skin to tingle with anticipation.

_No!_ Finn roared in his own mind. Using the trunk as support, he slid himself up it to be standing. Turning around to face the tree, he placed the flats of his palms against it, along with his forehead. Closing his eyes, Finn separated his conscious from everything around him. He blocked out the sounds and sights and smells of the trees. He boxed away the throbbing pain in his skull, keeping it safe for a later time. He let go of the physical world and tried his hardest to summon the low, melodic teachings he'd started to learn almost eleven winters ago.

Just as the echo of the old words reached him, so did Finn's mind open to it. In his mind's eyes, he pictured the river his master had trained him to see. The waters were dark and churning, the river swollen and pulsing as though it were caught in the storm. This river represented his conscious thoughts, his entire emotional state of being. He was completely lost to turmoil.

Finn pictured himself standing in front of the river. His master's long dead voice whispered to him that only through seeing himself as an integral part of the inner world could he hope to control his troubled heart.

On the opposite side of the river was the thing that Finn feared most. It looked like a puddle of darkness, floating on the other side. Shapeless and surreal, the surface was a glittering, oily black that rippled every now and again and shifted constantly. It was the manifestation of his confessor power, or at least how Finn chose to picture it. Much to his alarm, Finn watched as the darkness slithered toward the river, sludgy dark tendrils inching toward the flow of his conscious thought. It was a battle of wills now, his own control against the seduction of his power. It had taken years to separate the two, but now that Finn wasn't governed by his power, he refused to allow it a way back in. Allowing his emotions to get the better of him fed the confessor magic, weakening the barriers he'd put to keep himself and _it_ apart. Getting upset over what had transpired was the perfect opening his power needed to resume control.

Taking his eyes of it, Finn focused on the river. It was still rushing, pulsing wider and wider. Soon it would overflow its banks, and that would be disastrous. Finn concentrated, clawing his way to serenity. He imagined his breath to be the wind in the world, each exhalation a gust of wind working in perfect opposition to the rush of the water. The waters raged, and he exhaled deeply to calm them. It took him a few moments, but finally he felt his breath slow down in periodic exhalations. In response, the river seemed to shrink, the flow of the water easing off. On the other side of the river, the darkness pulsated, clearly agitated.

It took a few more breaths, but finally the river ebbed and flowed back to normal. The waters calmed themselves to a gentle flow, gently travelling along with a surface that resembled glass it was so smooth. Finn looked up to the manifestation of his power, and it too had shrunk. It was a small patch of darkness on the other side now, a constant but weak pulse that could be ignored.

Satisfied he had achieved the balance he needed, Finn slowly withdrew from inside. The image of the river faded, and one by one his senses detected the woods again. His eyes were last to open, and there before him was the mottled brown bark of the tree. Sighing gently, Finn let himself relax slightly. The danger had passed.

Or maybe not. The sound of rustling branches forced Finn into action. Pushing away from the trunk of a tree, he was confronted with a pitiful sight. The woman, only slightly older than him, had obviously been through an ordeal. Her plain blue dress had clearly been worn more than once given the way the colour had faded and the hem had started to fray. But that didn't explain the rips and tears pulling the garment and the white undershirt to pieces. The right shoulder was completely split in two and wrenched down to the upper arm. The collar had been ripped in half, exposing more than was considered daring for a neckline. Worst of all were the bruises and scratches on her arms. Not from an animal, Finn surmised, but by human hands. Male hands. Her eyes were wide with fear, and tears streaked her smooth cheeks like faded scars from a blade.

She hadn't noticed him yet, her eyes too wild to focus on anything at all. Finn considered stepping out and wondered if she would run in the opposite direction. She was clearly hurt and probably needed to calm herself before she carried on. The confessor knew it was dangerous to tarry, but could not leave an innocent soul alone to harm.

As slowly as possible, Finn pushed himself away from the tree, holding up his hands to show his non aggressive intent. His subtle movement stole her attention however, and her voice made an odd strangling sound in the pit of her throat.

"It's alright," Finn said softly. "I won't hurt you. You're safe."

He kept his words deliberately short and uncomplicated. From the look of distress, he doubted she could process anymore than that. She still didn't look quite convinced, and her head whirled from side to side looking for something Finn couldn't see. Her thick mane of blonde hair danced around her head in a delicate arc, finally settling on her shoulders as she looked at him again as she tried to work out if was a threat or not.

Finn took her staying put as a positive sign, and took a measure step toward her. She didn't flee, and so he took another until there was barely but a stride between them. "My name is Finn." The tone of his voice was deliberately calm, in an effort to settle her agitated features. "What's yours?"

The last traces of her defences finally fell. "Alana." Her voice was raw, probably from crying, but Finn could tell she had a beautiful tone.

"Alana," he said with a half smile. "I had a friend called Alana. Farmer's daughter." She nodded mutely, taking in the information but losing grip of it almost as quickly. "What happened to you?"

It was a simple question, but it broke her. Her face dissolved into flurries of tears at the same time as her legs crumbled beneath her. If it hadn't been for Finn lunging toward her, she would have hit the ground. Instead he steadied her descent, gently bringing her to the woodland floor in the safety of his arms. She didn't try to escape him, probably seeing the face of a seventeen year old boy and not anything resembling a threat. For one bitter moment, Finn wished everyone saw him as person rather than the mantle he carried, but quickly dismissed the thought for fear of it turning into something else.

They remained there for a moment, Alana desperately clinging for Finn with her hands as he held her against him, smoothing back her hair as she cried.

"It's alright Alana," he soothed. "You'll be alright, I promise." She only cried all the more, her breath coming in ragged gasps between each new onslaught of tears. Something terrible had happened to her, he could tell. There were terrors in this world even greater than those he had faced, and it hurt him that innocent people had to face them with no choice in the matter.

"Tell me what happened." Finn said finally. Alana's sorrow had reduced to the occasional sob. It took her a long time to speak, but when she did her voice came out like an unstoppable whispered rush.

"Walking...I was walking home from my cousin's cottage." She sniffed loudly. "It's only over the fields, and I've walked the road a hundred times before and never had a problem. But they came behind me. Lots of them, with horses and swords. I've never seen anything like them before."

Finn felt his brow crease into a frown of confusion and anger. "Who Alana? Who were they?"

"Men. Wicked men. Dressed in leather and carrying weapons. They looked so awful, and were so terrible. I don't know what I did, but they grabbed me because I couldn't run fast enough. One of them pulled me up onto his horse and tied back my hands." She started trembling now and Finn held her tighter, stroking her bare arms with his hands as she clutched at her wrists which bore the angry red rings of restraint. "They stopped later, when the sun had set and made camp. They said that I would do as a distraction for a while, something for them to play with whilst they hunted. They took me into the tent and they...they..."

Finn squeezed his eyes closed as Alana detailed the horrors of what had happened to her. For all the evils the Keeper himself could unleash, there was nothing as foul as a man forcing himself on an innocent woman. And in this case, there had been more than one. Finn hushed Alana, stroking her hair as he told her it would be alright.

Deep down he knew that it wouldn't. This immediate reaction was more out of instinct to survive than anything else. Finn knew that once Alana had returned somewhere safe, the reality of her ordeal would be brought home and she would be consumed by grief.

Part of him wanted to spare her that pain, the memory that she would carry around with her forever. He knew it would be easy to just caress her throat and relax his control for a moment and give to her the serenity only a confessor could. It would so simple to just wipe away her fears and hurt and leave her with simple, clear-headed purpose. The revulsion her ordeal had triggered in him made that desire to save her from her pain all the more potent. The reaction gnawed away at his balance, threatening to make that internal river run free again.

Only Finn wouldn't allow it. For one thing, he couldn't lose control. He'd been closer to it than he had in a long time and that frightened him. If he took Alana, he knew the temptation to have more and more would destroy him. It was that knowledge that kept Finn steady. He just hoped she'd come out the other side of it okay.

"Did they let you go?" He asked softly, as much to divert his attention away from thoughts of confession as well as find out what happened. "Or did you escape?"

"I escaped," she stammered, shaking as though she were freezing in the warm air. "They stopped at the river and I ran when they weren't looking."

The first niggle of warning twisted in the back of his mind. Finn could hear the faint gush of water through the trees and knew that the river wasn't all that far away. If she'd left them at the river, they probably weren't all that far away. And if she'd broken through the trees, they could very well be mere steps behind her. Finn glanced uneasily the way she had come, looking for any sign of Alana being followed.

"These men," Finn continued, trying to keep his voice even. This was farming country. A party of brutes like Alana had described had no business being out this far. It begged the question exactly what they had come for. "You said they were hunting. Did they happen to mention what they were looking for?"

"Not what," she replied, "who. They said they were following 'him', like he had run away from them." Alana paused, her bottom lip disappearing beneath the top as she chewed on it thoughtfully. "They said something about Rorick, like Rorick was someone important and that whoever they were after was because Rorick wanted him. The way they said it, made it sound like he belonged to Rorick."

If Finn could have wailed out loud, he would have. How could it have been anyone other than Rorick's men? They were the perfect type of lowlife scum to attack and assault an innocent woman for their own pleasure. Just how many of his enforcers had he sent out? Rorick didn't care much for the calibre of men that he employed. As long as they worked for a fair wage and were loyal to him, he was more than happy to turn a blind eye to their sinister pursuits. Finn had felt firsthand what those men could do, and knew only too well what they _would_ do if they got their hands on him again. As long as he was delivered in one, working piece they could do what they liked to him.

Fear forced him to act, and the male confessor got back to his feet, pulling Alana up with him. She looked confused, and he did his best to assure as he brushed her wild hair back from her face. "We should get moving Alana. If you left those men behind at the river, it won't be long before they figure out you're gone and I have no doubt they'll come after you and follow you here."

He turned and gripped Alana's hand in his own. He pulled her gently, but stopped almost as quickly as he heard the sickening muted thud of an arrow connecting to and penetrating the flesh of another. Finn whirled around to see Alana's expression, her features a tortured mask of surprise, disappointment and agony. The head of arrow protruded from between her breasts, the wound oozing blood freely. Her voice escaped in a gurgled whisper before the light left her eyes and Alana fell to the ground, dead.

Now that she was no longer blocking his sight, Finn could see past to the trees where a handful of mercenaries stood, theirs faces grinning in victory. The closest was already loading up his bow with another arrow, and Finn knew he couldn't get into the thick of the trees before the arrow was fired. He had no choice but to stand his ground and fight for the time being. If these brutes thought they were going to take him easily, he was going to teach them the error of their ways.

Reaching to his back and beneath his cloak, Finn gripped the handles of his swords in either hand, the painful throb in his head all but forgotten. In one swift movement, he released the blades from the scabbards crossed over his back, spinning the swords in his hands so they were crossed before him. The gathering of men hesitated for a moment, eyeing the ivory handles Finn gripped along with the curved blades that protruded from them. They knew Finn alone was deadly, but watching him wield the swords so expertly they found themselves faced with a new danger and flinched accordingly.

They all knew Finn's touch would be the end of them, but nobody had said anything about a runaway who could wield a sword like he could. Finn had spent years training on how to fight with blades. The curved twin swords were his favourite weapons, and when armed with them he became an instrument of death.

Subtly, the male confessor let his weight rest on the ball of his left foot, leaning ever so slightly closer to the mercenaries. The bow wielding thug reacted first, unthinking as he released the arrow from the weapon and it flew toward Finn. He was ready for it though, and slashed across himself in downward cutting motions. The oncoming arrow as topped and tailed in one strike, leaving it as just a harmless length of wood that fell to the ground.

Finn didn't wait for another projectile to be sent his way, instead he dashed forward, and his eyes filled with a blood lust that would make even his confessor power shrink away in terror. He would defend himself from them, and avenge the innocence of Alana. He would make them pay for what they did to her, and for what they would allow to happen to him if they had the chance. Finn even refused to give them luxury of confession, instead he vowed to send them to the Keeper on the painful edge of his sword.

The male confessor began his dance of death, twisting in and out of his opponents as his arms slashed left and right, back and forth, around and through. Each perfectly aimed strike brought a fresh howl of pain, each blow either killing outright or mortally wounding the mercenaries too greedy to realise what they were doing was wrong. Finn cut them down, one by one, dodging beneath the slash of a sword and the lunge of another, plunging both blades into the gut of one that strayed too close. They tried to avoid the swing of his swords, but Finn never stopped moving, launching himself from one man to the next. He parried blows and slashed at exposed flesh with abandon, cutting across the back of one's knees and criss-crossing the blades across the throat of the next, all the while letting himself melt into the murderous rage.

Bodies fell all around him, only they weren't the bodies of Rorick's men to Finn. All around him he saw the black and yellow robes of the monks that he had grown up with. He saw the face of friends and the closest thing he ever had to family left forever twisted in the grimace of an agonising death. He saw the blood stains of his teachers coating the carpet of grass and the severed limbs of the mentors that had helped him overcome his darkness. Worst of all, his guide and best friend stared up from the ground before him as his life blood slowly pooled around him. He had brought death upon those he loved, and to those that would do him harm, he brought the same.

It had come down to Finn and a final victim. He had been reduced to his knees, with one hand clamped around his upper arm as he tried to stop the blood flow from his gaping wound. He mumbled incoherently about forgiveness and his life being spared. His pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, and Finn lifted his weapons high so that they hovered over his head. The condemned squeezed his eyes closed as he awaited the death blow, only it never came. He felt the rush of air passed his face as the curved blades were brought down. But they weren't plunged into his chest as he suspected, instead they were stabbed into the ground before his knees. He cracked open his eyes to see if he was still alive, and started to scream in terror as he saw the hand reaching for him.

His cry did him no good, as Finn's hand clamped around his throat. His emotions were a hurricane within him, and the guard keeping his confessor power locked safely inside was already eroded when he released it. He felt his power explode out of him and completely consume the one he had by the throat. The rumble of distant thunder cemented the act, and Finn lowered his hand, now face to face with the confessed.

"Command me, Confessor."

The tone of his voice was almost desperate, tempered by the serenity of being completely devoted to Finn. The Confessor dropped to one knee, and pulled his swords out of the ground. His voice was emotionless as he cleaned the blades on the grass, his eyes cold and devoid of life.

"You will go to Rorick and deliver this message to him." Finn lifted the blade and inspected it, seeing that it was clean of all traces of the mercenaries' blood. "I will not return to his employ under any circumstances. If he sends anymore of his men to come after me, I will confess every single one of them and send them back to him with my own orders to slit his throat. Do you have all that?"

"Yes Confessor."

"Good." Finn replaced his swords in the scabbards across his back. "One more thing. Take your sword and cut off the heads of every single one of your party. Put them in a sack and throw them at Rorick's feet as you deliver the message."

"Yes Confessor."

He was so willing, unquestioning and above all prepared to do anything commanded of him. A spark of emotion lit behind Finn's eyes. "You realise I'm sending you to your death, don't you? If you walk into Rorick's stronghold confessed, carrying the heads of the men that were sent to capture me, he will probably kill you where you stand."

The man nodded. "I know confessor, but I will do anything that you ask of me. I live to please you."

"Go and complete your mission as I have instructed you. Maybe by doing this deed for me you will work off some small part of the horrors you have inflicted upon others." Finn rose to his feet, not noticing the look of hurt on the man's features as he thought himself a disappointment to his master. "What's your name?"

"Alrick, master." He replied with the exuberance of an eager to please puppy.

"May the spirits see you there safely." A hint of sadness crept into Finn's voice. He half turned over his shoulder, but couldn't quite meet Alrick's eyes. "If by some grace of the Creator you should survive this mission, come and find me. I'll be somewhere in the Midlands, hiding probably."

"I will return to you master."

Alrick's certainty almost brought Finn to his knees. Deep down he knew the man deserved a fate worse than that he was being sent on for the crimes he had committed, but Finn still couldn't reconcile his part in it. It was a suicide mission, plain and simple and Finn was not just allowing it to happen he was physically orchestrating it. Alrick's devotion to him meant that he would do his utmost to make it back, even if it was impossible. There were times Finn wished he could be confessed rather than be the Confessor. A life of clear purpose and devotion seemed an awful lot simpler than the one he led.

"Go then Alrick. And do your best to return to your master." Finn smiled sadly as he turned and walked away, pretending the sound of the confessed withdrawing his sword and hacking at dead bodies was a far off woodsman cutting at trees.

Finn wanted nothing more than to disappear in that moment, to be as far away from his life and this place as he could possibly be. He pretended to himself as he stepped into the shielding of the trees that he was in fact fading into nothingness as the branches swallowed him into their embrace. At least this way he couldn't do any more harm. There were no lives for him to destroy in this place.

Reaching for his hood, he pulled it down over his eyes as he trudged purposefully through the undergrowth. He was covered in blood, some of it his own but most of it from his victims. The sound of the running river directed his feet, and he found himself walking toward it. It would do to wash himself off and try and clean up the wound on his head. He decided that he would have to visit a healer worth their price in the next town, just to make sure the throbbing wound at his temple didn't require something more than being cleaned.

The ground sloped downwards beneath his feet, and Finn inhaled the scent of fresh water. He broke through the final branches and stepped onto the pebbles and rocks that lined the edge of the river. Pulling his hood back, he knelt down and scooped his hand into the water. Bringing it to his lips, he sipped it and sighed with contentment at the cool, fresh taste. He was about to remove his cloak entirely when a movement up ahead stopped him.

Lifting his head, Finn glanced up to see a Mord'Sith kneeling at the edge of the river a little further away from him. He recognised the leather uniform, not to mention the Agiel strapped at her waist. Her face was partly obscured by her blonde hair as she focused on filling the water skins she held beneath the surface. Instantly Finn saw the same seen again, the black and yellow clad monks covered in a sea of blood. Finn wasn't sure if she'd noticed him, but she certainly did as he withdrew his swords, growling at her.

"Mord'Sith."

She looked up in time to see Finn striding toward her, wielding his swords in a wide arc to slash across her arms. At the last second she ducked beneath the path of the swords, reaching for her Agiels which she pulled loose. She stabbed them forward, aiming to catch Finn directly on the sternum, but he bent out of the way too quickly.

Instinctively they both half stepped back out of the other's reach, bringing their weapons up for a second lunge. Finn was a half second faster, lunging forward with his arm extended toward her chest. The Mord'Sith twisted at the waist, turning so that the curve of the blade whistled past her. However it left her in an awkward position, and as such was caught by the path of the second sword. Finn brought it down in a cross over his extended arm, and the curve of his blade slashed through her leather to the flesh beneath her upper left arm. Hissing in pain, she struck out with her Agiel but again missed her mark.

They circled one another warily now, Finn holding his swords slightly forward in his bent arms as the Mord'Sith held her Agiels in a defensive guard. Blood oozed from her wound, but she made no effort to stop it, understating a loss of concentration would leave her firmly at the mercy of her attacker.

When Finn lunged a final time, she realised she was moments away from the meeting the Keeper. She tried to pivot on her back foot, to spin out of the way and bring her Agiels down over his back, and would have been successful if it weren't for the loose pebbles beneath her foot. The small mound cascaded downwards with the turn of her foot, drastically altering her balance and sending her sprawling to the ground.

Finn sensed his victory and span his swords in his hands so that the blades were facing down. He started to bring them toward her chest for the final death strike when a voice startled him.

"Cara!"

The confessor glanced up to see Kahlan and who he assumed to be the Seeker bounding through the trees toward them. Both had their weapons out, the Sword of Truth catching the sunlight as Richard prepared to slay him with it.

It wasn't Richard or Kahlan that struck Finn however. Taking his eyes off Cara had been a mistake, and Finn was rewarded with both Agiels being rammed into his gut. His eyes bulged with pain, and Finn's voice exploded in a scream of pain. The agony was all consuming, and Finn wasn't sure he would live a second longer in its grasp.

Mercifully, Cara pulled the weapons away scrabbling back to her feet as Finn gulped in air as the agony finally broke. The striding figure of the wizard crashed through the trees behind Kahlan and Richard, his eyes narrowed on the male confessor. Finn pathetically attempted to draw his swords across himself in an effort to provide some kind of defence, but he needn't have bothered. The motion of the wizard's hands was the last thing Finn saw clearly before his world was sent into a spin.

There was a sound like an explosion in his ears, and Finn felt the awesome force of Zedd's magic against him. He felt as though he'd been struck by a runaway cart, and the resulting impact sent Finn flying wildly through the air and away from the Seeker and his companions. His arms wheeled around him as he tried to steady his fall, and still he plunged into the river, smacking against the hard rocks beneath the surface.

Finn was vaguely aware of the water swirling above his head and he willingly gave himself over to the dark, chilling embrace of the river.


End file.
